Days of auld lang syne
or... a full accounting of the Sixth Annual Robert Burns Supper.
Every year, the Fool and I throw a dinner party in honor of the Scottish poet, Robert Burns. It's not an original idea - there are many, many of these parties around the world, including two in Chicago. We started doing it to be funny (early incarnations featured "Pin the Tail on the Haggis" and "Robert, George or Monty," a game of quotations), but since we've learned about how much Burns did in contribution to Scottish folk song and literature, we've really begun to enjoy these.
We've made a few amendments to the traditional format to accommodate local pecularities. We don't serve homemade meat haggis (unless we can find some in a can), because the crowd includes a lot of vegetarians and a lot of people who, although they eat meat, think haggis is just a Bit Much. This year, Jeffrey cobbled together a vegetarian haggis, based on two Internet recipes and his own recipe for vegetarian pate. It wasn't bad. We were joking about how he needed to put his own recipe up on the Web and give back to the large vegetarian haggis-making community on the Internet.
We had the traditional dinner of baked potatoes with a variety of toppings, various potlucked side dishes and cookies and fruit for dessert. People drank whiskey (whisky? I can never remember which spelling means the stuff from Scotland and which spelling means the stuff from not-Scotland) and we had the traditional after-dinner entertainment.
Benjamin presented a speech on the life and times of Robert Burns, Lynn sang a Robert Burns song, the Fool and I played some Scottish fiddle music with guitar accompaniment, Susan read a Robert Burns poem in a German accent, which completely slayed Revital, lots of people read poems, we had a Robert Burns singalong, and at the end of the evening, when all the musicians had retired to the kitchen for tunes, Hopping Peter put down two wooden spoons and demonstrated a Scottish sword dance before serious clogging set in.
The cats, even Angus, did not show their furry little noses once.
Now, the kitchen is nearly back to normal and we're using up all the Burns Supper leftovers. I made a sour cream chocolate cake for the contra dance Monday and tonight, it's loaded baked potato soup and salad.
Benjamin makes his speech. NB Miriam knitting on the couch; she's making socks for her husband, but her gauge is so loose she has to knit Lorna's Laces on something like 00s or 000s. He said he's almost afraid to wear these socks for fear if he wears them out he'll never get another pair.
Every year, the Fool and I throw a dinner party in honor of the Scottish poet, Robert Burns. It's not an original idea - there are many, many of these parties around the world, including two in Chicago. We started doing it to be funny (early incarnations featured "Pin the Tail on the Haggis" and "Robert, George or Monty," a game of quotations), but since we've learned about how much Burns did in contribution to Scottish folk song and literature, we've really begun to enjoy these.
We've made a few amendments to the traditional format to accommodate local pecularities. We don't serve homemade meat haggis (unless we can find some in a can), because the crowd includes a lot of vegetarians and a lot of people who, although they eat meat, think haggis is just a Bit Much. This year, Jeffrey cobbled together a vegetarian haggis, based on two Internet recipes and his own recipe for vegetarian pate. It wasn't bad. We were joking about how he needed to put his own recipe up on the Web and give back to the large vegetarian haggis-making community on the Internet.
We had the traditional dinner of baked potatoes with a variety of toppings, various potlucked side dishes and cookies and fruit for dessert. People drank whiskey (whisky? I can never remember which spelling means the stuff from Scotland and which spelling means the stuff from not-Scotland) and we had the traditional after-dinner entertainment.
Benjamin presented a speech on the life and times of Robert Burns, Lynn sang a Robert Burns song, the Fool and I played some Scottish fiddle music with guitar accompaniment, Susan read a Robert Burns poem in a German accent, which completely slayed Revital, lots of people read poems, we had a Robert Burns singalong, and at the end of the evening, when all the musicians had retired to the kitchen for tunes, Hopping Peter put down two wooden spoons and demonstrated a Scottish sword dance before serious clogging set in.
The cats, even Angus, did not show their furry little noses once.
Now, the kitchen is nearly back to normal and we're using up all the Burns Supper leftovers. I made a sour cream chocolate cake for the contra dance Monday and tonight, it's loaded baked potato soup and salad.
Benjamin makes his speech. NB Miriam knitting on the couch; she's making socks for her husband, but her gauge is so loose she has to knit Lorna's Laces on something like 00s or 000s. He said he's almost afraid to wear these socks for fear if he wears them out he'll never get another pair.
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